The Lake in the Winter
by Lady Phoenix Fire Rose
Summary: Harry has had a secret since he was a five. A secret that is now threatening to be revealed.


_A/N: This story I wrote for a combination of challenges._

_Hi, just wanted everyone who was reading this to know, I wrote a side story. It is called Winter's Lake. Please check it out. It will help answer some of your questions._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

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><p>"<em><strong>The Lake in the Winter"<strong>_

Harry James Potter had a secret. A very dark secret. Only four other people in the world knew this secret, and he was determined to keep it that way.

Three of them were Dudley, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, because the secret involved them. The other person who knew had helped him create this secret, and he would rather completely forget about them, and bury the secret down deep where absolutely no one else can find it. He had already succeeded in doing that in his mind, that is why Legilimens like Snape and Dumbledore did not know about it.

The problem was that it was more difficult to hide facts that could be given out at any given time by a live person, though he knew the Dursleys would never talk. It was impossible for them to speak of. No, what he was worried about was the fourth person on that list. If he knew one thing about them, it was how untrustworthy they were.

They were the ones that made it impossible for the Dursleys to talk.

He wouldn't have even thought about it if they hadn't contacted him a few days ago and told him that they wanted to meet someday with in the next couple of weeks. That was the last thing in the world that he ever wanted to do.

Harry glared at his desk, and balled his hands into fists. His nails dug into the skin of his palms so hard that they started to bleed. Slowly he unclenched his fists, he stared at his bloody palms and sighed. There was nothing for it, he has to talk to them, so that he could at least find out what their plans were. If he didn't who knows what would happen.

He groaned and stood, stretching out all of his stiff muscles that resulted from sitting in a hard desk chair and not moving for hours. He started to pace back and forth across his room. A frown spread across his face. What could they possibly want now of all times, just when his life was finally settling down. Why now? What could possibly have changed? The last time they met they agreed to never see, talk, or communicate with each other in any way. They might not have been particularly trustworthy but they always kept their word, always.

Harry sighed and combed a hand through his hair, making it twice as messy as it normally was. It had been five years since he last had contact with them. Five years since he was finally able to completely bury his past, though it seemed that it was not as buried as he thought.

_-Step back and see the truth.-_

Five year old Harry shivered, wrapping his arms tightly around him, but it did little to ward off the freezing cold. His shirt was so worn through that it barely stayed on his body. He had no coat on. Snow stuck to his hair, leaving it spotted with white. His nose, ears, and cheeks were all bright red from the cold. As were his hands, which he had stuffed under his armpits to try and ward off the cold. The left leg of his trousers was ripped to the knee, showing off red and bruised skin of his legs. He trudged through the sludge along a street.

The Dursleys had decided to come to New York City for their Christmas vacation this year, since Vernon had some business dealings that were taking place there at that time. The only reason that Harry had come along was because they had no-where to dump him for the two weeks that they would be gone. No one wanted to take care of a troublesome child that was going to grow into a criminal, especially over Christmas. Their usual care taker for the boy, Mrs. Figg, was out of town and wouldn't be back until after they had returned.

Currently they had guests, so they had kicked Harry out of the hotel room they had rented, not even giving him the chance to grab his flimsy jacket, saying, "Stay out of sight, we don't want anyone to know you're with us." Which basically meant he wasn't allowed to stay in the lobby either; not that he would want to, with the looks that the employees kept shooting him.

So here he was, trudging along a crowded street of New York City, with no one paying him any mind. Feeling rather frightened by the over large crowds, he turned onto a mostly deserted road. There was only one other person on that road. They were hidden mostly in shadows, as they leaned against the wall of a rather run down looking coffee shop. He couldn't see their face, but he could tell that they were watching him.

He froze in fear, not daring to move his eyes off the figure. He could feel right down to his very bones that this person was extremely dangerous. Even his young mind knew that you didn't want to gain their attention much less keep it, and he knew that he had their undivided attention. He shivered, this time it was not from the cold.

The figure pushed themselves off the wall, and started to walk towards him. As they got closer he saw that it was a young woman. He still could not see her face, but he could tell that she was tall. Despite the cold she carried her leather jacket slung over her right arm even though her shirt was sleeveless. On her left arm he could barely make out the tattoo of something.

When her face came out of the shadows he gasped. Running down it was a scar from a deep looking gash; it ran at a slant from her nose to below her left ear. Her eyes did not match. The left one was a startling blue color, the other one was a milky white. She had pulled her midnight black hair back into a ponytail, except for a lone piece that lay across her face; the tips of it were dyed a dark red.

When she reached him, she knelt before him. "Hello there little one. What are you doing out all alone in this weather?" Her voice was kind, and seemed so out of place from the danger and fear her presence made him feel.

He stared at her in wide-eyed confusion, not understanding how someone who seemed so nice could be so scary. He couldn't find his voice to answer, so he just shook his head wildly.

She put on a gentle smile, "Come with me?" she asked, holding out her hand to him, but he could tell it was not a question.

He placed his small hand into hers. Closing her hand around his in a firm grasp, almost tight enough to be painful, she led him to the coffee shop that she was previously leaning against. A bell tinkled from somewhere unseen when they entered. There was no one else there until a man came out from a door behind the bar.

"Can you get the boy a hot chocolate, and me my usual, John?" asked the woman, who still held Harry's hand firmly in hers.

John nodded before leaving back through the door.

As the two were talking Harry took a look around, the place was filthy. That was the only word for it. There was even a dead rat in the corner.

The woman led them to a booth seat. "Up you get," she said, lifting Harry onto one of the seats. She sat across from him. Resting her elbows on the table she rested her chin her on fists, not once taking her eyes off of Harry. "What is your name, child?" she spoke with that same kind voice.

Unable to focus on her face, Harry stared at her tattoo, now noticing that it was of a white tiger with blood red eyes. "Harry," he whispered, far too afraid to dare to speak any louder.

"There now that wasn't so bad," said the woman, his eyes flicked to her face and he noticed that she was smiling at him again. He could do nothing to stop the shiver that ran down his spine.

Just then John came back into the room carrying two steaming mugs. He placed one before her and the other in front of Harry, before leaving the room again.

"Who are you?" asked Harry, hesitantly.

"No one of consequence," she said, a smirk fluttering around her mouth.

"I must know," said Harry, unable to believe someone with an aura of such danger could be of no consequence. It didn't help that the way she said it scared him more.

"Get used to disappointment."

He looked down at his hands holding his mug of cocoa tightly, trying to get whatever warmth they could from it.

"Now tell me," said the woman, "What were you doing wondering the streets alone?"

Harry looked up and stared into her eyes, he knew that she wouldn't let him not answer. So he said in the quietest voice he could and still be audible, "My family kicked me out while they have guests."

She raised an eyebrow at that, "Really." She sat there contemplative for a few minutes, before speaking again. "Take off your shirt and turn around."

"What?" he asked, shocked. He stared at her wide eyed, not comprehending why she would want such a thing.

She growled, making Harry scoot as far back in his seat as possible. "Take off your shirt and turn around, I will not repeat myself again."

Terrified, he slid out of his seat and did as he was told.

She eyed his back carefully, taking in all of the scarring, before informing him he could put his shirt back on and resume his seat. She fell into a meditative silence.

Harry quietly drank his cocoa, not knowing what else to do. He could run, but somehow he didn't think he would get vary far. He looked out the grungy window, the sky was now completely dark.

"Take me to see your family," she ordered, breaking the silence.

He reluctantly nodded. He stood, and waited for her. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

As he led the way out of the shop and back on-to the busy street that he had been trudging along before, she tightened her grip on his shoulder, warning him not to even think of running. He nodded silently.

Everyone seemed to give them wide birth automatically; still no one paid the two of them any mind.

It took them a good ten minute's walk to get back to the hotel, shorter than his walk to the Coffee Shop because he was walking much quicker.

At the room he hesitated momentarily; she squeezed his shoulder tightly, and he knocked.

It was opened by a very irate Vernon. Seeing who it was he made to grab him while saying, "Boy, you were supposed to be back here an..." he was cut off as he missed grabbing Harry because the woman had pulled the child out of the way. Vernon turned to glare at her...that is until he got a good look at her, which made him take several steps back in fright.

"I want to talk to you and your wife. Alone," she said, her voice broke no room for argument.

Vernon fearfully nodded. "Co..come in.." he choked out.

"You will wait here," she informed Harry sternly.

He nodded, knowing better than to disagree.

A gentle smile quickly flitted across her face as she looked at Harry, before her steely expression returned and she followed Vernon into the rooms, shutting the door behind her.

Harry sat back against the wall across from the door, pulled his knees to his chest and held them there, trying to make himself as small as possible.

He never did find out what happened in those rooms that day. All he knew was that whatever the woman had said to the Dursleys scared them, scared them more than anything had ever scared them before. When she came out, he could feel that his life had improved.

_-Look deeper to find what you're after.-_

It was three months later when next he saw her. This time it was in Little Whinging. He was once again out for a walk, though, this one was of his own free will, just so that he could get away. He walked to the park that was just a few streets away from his house.

He froze when he saw who was casually swinging on one of the swings. She looked up and grinned at him.

"Don't be so shocked. Did you really think that you wouldn't see me again?"

"No," he said, timidly, as he slowly walked to her when she beckoned him forward. "Why are you here?"

"To check on you of course."

That was the first of many visits. At least once every three months, sometimes more often, but always when he least expected it. When he started at Hogwarts she only visited in the summers, and she had made him promise not to tell anyone about her, or even think of her when he was in school.

In all of that time, he had never learned to like her. In fact the more he knew her the less he liked her.

_-Spoken words, hidden thoughts.-_

It was the summer after his fifth year that he had last seen her. They were in the park again. He was sitting on the last swing, and she was leaning against a tree. They hadn't spoken at all yet. She was the first to break the silence.

"This is the last time I'll be coming by."

"Good," said Harry, shortly. He was rather put out with her, because last time they had seen each other, she had refused to help with the war against Voldemort.

She shook her head in amusement, "I never get involved in other people's battles."

Harry glared at her, having long gotten over his fear of her, but he could still feel that she was dangerous.

"And besides I have already helped you."

His glare turned to a look of confusion. "What do you mean?"

She didn't reply, just smirked at him

He sighed and changed the subject. "You'll never contact me again. Agreed?"

"Agreed, unless it is an emergency," he opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "You owe me and you know it."

He sent a scathing look, because he knew she was right. "Agreed," he said, reluctantly. "Are you ever going to tell me your name?"

She grinned widely, "Now that would be telling." The same answer she gave every time. She blew him a mocking kiss and disappeared.

_-Now open your eyes, the truth is right in front of you.-_

Twenty year old Harry glared after the owl that winged its way towards _her_. He felt small arms snake their way around his waist, and a chin rest on his shoulder.

"Would you like me to go with you?" asked his fiancée of a year.

He leaned back into her, "Please."

She moved around him and sat on his lap, "Then I will," she gave him a gentle kiss.

"Thank you Luna," he said, smiling widely. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"And you'll never need to."

_-Life is life, take it as it is.-_

Harry and Luna sat in a cafe in muggle London. Neither spoke, but their eyes were locked onto each other as they seemed to have a silent conversation.

"I think I must offer my congratulations to the happy couple," said a voice from beside them.

They turned and found _her_. "You," said Harry, giving her a nod.

"Me," she agreed, smirking, "Were you expecting anyone else?"

"No," he motioned for her to have a seat. "What is it that you want? You agreed to only contact me in emergencies."

"I lied."

Harry growled and looked ready to throttle her; the only thing that stopped him was Luna placing a soothing hand on his arm. "Then why are you wasting my time?"

"I just want you to know that I found a reason to change who I used to be," she said, smiling sweetly at him.

"You are lying, you wouldn't change not even if your life depended on it," said Harry. Luna had to weave her fingers with his to keep him calm. "Quit playing around and tell me why you are here."

She sighed, pretending to be rather put out, before smirking again. "I came to tell you my name."

"Well then, spit it out already," said Harry, calming down somewhat, waiting for the answer to the question that had bugged him since he was five.

"Alex."

"That's it? You just contacted me for the first time in five years, after agreeing only to do so in cases of emergency, to tell me that your name is Alex," said Harry, staring at her in disbelief.

"That sounds about right," said Alex, grinning widely.

"Tell us why you are really here," said Luna, speaking for the first time. "I know that is not the full reason."

Alex raised an eyebrow at her, "I like her, Harry. She is a keeper."

He glared at her, "Quit avoiding the question."

"Alright, alright," she waved her hand airily. "Vernon is dead."

Harry's breath caught in his throat, unable to believe his own ears. "You're sure?" he whispered. His hand tightened the grip it had on Luna's.

"Have I ever been anything less than sure?" asked Alex, smirking lightly.

He nearly sighed in relief. "How?"

"That would be telling," said a smirking Alex, and then she was gone.

_-Breathe and relax, all is well.-_

When Harry and Luna made it home, he ordered Kreachere to go and get him copies of all the newspapers around Little Whinging. As soon as the elf was back, he skimmed over them until he found the article that he was looking for. It said that Vernon's death was an accident, but he knew deep down inside that this was no accident. It was planned, and had been for fifteen years; ever since the first time he met Alex, and when she had seen the scars on his back.

For those fifteen years he knew that something was going to happen; he just never knew what... until now.

_**The End**_


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